


Dead-Reckoning, a 221B

by Justgot1



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Johnlock Roulette, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justgot1/pseuds/Justgot1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Bees have a map-like spatial memory,” you told me, face obscured by the golden mesh veil. “They know the landmarks that will lead them home. Dead-reckoning.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead-Reckoning, a 221B

**Author's Note:**

> A 221B -- 221 words, last one beginning with the letter B.
> 
> The first line is poached from [Tiny Things.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/637498/chapters/1155141) I waste nothing. :-)

That first day, we made love  in the grass so slowly  that the earth pressed its geography  on the flesh of your thighs  and the sun burned your handprint  onto my back, fingers curled under  like a child’s.

“Do you miss it,” I gasped, spent, tree shadows creeping fingers towards us, like sundials. “London, do you miss it?”

“You are my city now,” you murmured against my neck, my chest, my belly. “You are my country to map, now.”

Which wasn’t true, not really. Your mind still found puzzles in the news, in the emailed pleas, in calls from the city. Then, more and more as the years drew on and your hair silvered, in the garden and in the hives, where city life had continued, unabated.

“Bees have a map-like spatial memory,” you told me, face obscured by the golden mesh veil. “They know the landmarks that will lead them home. Dead-reckoning.”

“Like sailors of old,” I grinned. “Like pirates.”

“Like me,” you said softly, back turned. “Like you.”

That last day, you slept, slipping deeper and slowly, slowly farther away, and I whispered, “go my explorer, my pirate. Go and map it, that unknown place, that blank country, and I will follow you, as I always do. I will follow you home. My map. My compass. My dead-reckoning bee.”

 


End file.
